


The Long Way Home

by HelenaKey



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Trailer, Civil War Team Captain America, Claustrophobia, Daddy Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Homesickness, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Loki Feels, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Protective!Grandmaster, Trust Issues, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-09 15:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12890655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenaKey/pseuds/HelenaKey
Summary: Asgard is gone, the Allfather dead and Thor nowhere to be found. Loki tries to cope with his loses while fighting along side a group of heroes who do not trust him. Luckily, he is not the only sorcerer with a dubious background in the vecinity. Or, in which Loki carves himself a place among the Avengers, gets to have some bonding time with his fellow magic-users, and earns back the favor of his favorite Sugar Daddy, because, eh, priorities.





	The Long Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, after so long, I managed to finish this chapter! Okay, I've been going nuts about Frostmaster ever since I saw Thor: Ragnarok about a month ago, and honestly, I had never fallen so hard for any ship before. These two dorks are my life. Now that the first Infinity War trailers are finally coming out, I figured I could write something about them and include the theories I have for the next movies, sooo, this little baby was born. About midway through writing it I heard about that statement where a guy said that Loki was going to be a villian in the movie, and while I'm not totally against that idea if it's carried out correctly, it kind of ruined all the bases I had for this finc. But, hey, like Loki would say, I do what I want. And if I want an Avenger!Loki teaming up with Wanda and the Grandmaster to kick Thanos' ass, I'll fucking have it. 
> 
> The way I see it, Frostmaster is a very lighthearted ship, even though I know that there's lots of people in the fandom that would disagree with this (*cough* dub-con writters *cough*) but that's really not my cup of tea so don't expect anything too dark out of this story, at least when it concerns them. God knows Loki on his own is a completely different matter; that guy is an angst magnet. I tried my best to work with a version of character that would resemble more the prior versions of Loki (particularly the Dark World version, because, honestly, that's my favorite) without completely divorcing him from the one we saw in Ragnarok, so I hope I managed to do that well. Turns out balancing a tragic prince with psychopathic tendencies and deep inner turmoils with a lovable dork in love with theatre and good cocktails is kinda hard, who would have known? Anyway, I hope you like the reading, and if you do please, comment, tell me what you thought or just leave kudos. I'd make me very happy))

Loki had been living for three weeks in the underground before his old fear for secluded spaces begin to resurface. It was yet another of the many obscure, irrational phobias that he had acquired over the years; one he had never been able to overcome, despite the shame it had brought him in the playgrounds as a child, and later in the battlefield throughout the days of his young adulthood. Life in recent times, however, had become rather eventful and problematic, and despite the nagging feeling that had appeared in the back of his mind since the first moment of descent, Loki found that for the moment he didn't have the presence of mind to dwell on the oppressiveness of his living quarters. Now that things were finally calming down, and he could allow his thoughts to wander aimlessly without fearing the consequences of distraction, he could feel the low murmurs of panic creeping up on him again, making his hands and head tingle with quiet anticipation.

He felt strangely restless, and when he laid down in bed for too long he was seized by an awkward, tingly sensation that didn't allow him to fall asleep for more than a few minutes. His thoughts felt rushed and convulsed, the realization of everything that had happened in the last few weeks hitting him with full force now that he had nothing to occupy his mind with. The world he had come to think of as home in his thousand years of existence was gone; devoured by the raging flames of an ancient power. Accompanied only by a handful of survivors, Loki had been left to drift in the darkest corners of the galaxy, deprived of everything that once he had dared to call his; his history and culture, his most cherished possessions, and memories that went back to the early days of his childhood. Not even his family, estranged as he had been from it, had been spared by the fates. He was the only one left in this galaxy; probably in the whole universe. It was a most disconcerting feeling. 

He thought often of Thor. He had been lost to the mercies of outer space hours after his coronation; only one of the few victims that had fallen after the Mad Titan's attack on their last ship. Even though his gut told him that his brother was still alive, somewhere, Loki knew nothing of his whereabouts nor how well he was fairing. For all he knew, he was back on Earth as well, looking for allies and gathering information - waiting to spring into action when the time was right. He could be lost in unknown Realms far away from Yggdrasil, with no knowledge of where he was or how to come back to their system. The uncertainty was unbearable. Loki couldn't let himself fret over Thor now, however; he still had to see to the safety of Asgard's remaining population, and now that Earth had become their home for the undefined time, there were various logistical matters regarding their protection that couldn't be left unattended.

If it had been his decision to make, Loki wouldn't have taken their people to Midgardian land; knowing as well as he did that the Realm of Men had its days counted. Thor had been crowned as their king, however, and in a world where his brother was in charge he knew that there was no place for his opinion, senseful as it could be. That’s the way things had always been, and he doubted they were likely to change now, after everything that had transpired between them. Now Thor was gone, and in lack of any other successor Loki had taken his place as Asgard’s reluctant leader; with no allies in the remaining Worlds and their only ship destroyed after a particularly unpleasant landing in Norwegian beaches, his only option was to make the best out of a dire situation. It was a feeling he was rather familiar with. 

With the exception of Bruce, he saw little of Midgard's Heroes in his day to day life, and only had to put up with their presence when tactical decisions were been made, or when his people had demands that Loki couldn't satisfy on his own and he was forced to take the matters to higher powers. The Avengers had been surprisingly comprehensive of their new position as refugees, and doubtful as he was of their intentions, he knew that it was not his place to refuse the little help they were been offered. Mercy was not a common occurrence across the Nine, and for once he felt more inclined to accept his good fortune rather than question it. Most of the time he spent in the makeshift infirmary, helping as best as he could with the rudimentary knowledge he had of the healing arts, and when he was otherwise unoccupied a visit to the Grandmaster's quarters was always a welcoming respite. He was disposed towards fretfulness by nature, and he found the carefree personality of the Elder to be refreshing, in these rather distressful times.

Their parting had been far from sweet, and Loki was aware that in light of recent events the Grandmaster had more than enough reasons to be claiming for both his and his brother’s blood. Unlike most of the enemies they had made over the centuries in their adventures across the Nine, this one had the power to make his wish come true rather easily. Luckily for him, the Grandmaster seemed to be fond enough of his wayward pet to oversee these slights, grave as they had been. The part of him that had yearned to stay on Sakaar despite the responsibility he had with his people couldn’t help but feel grateful for this; even faced by the dangers that the close proximity of the Avengers represented, it was difficult for Loki to feel concerned when he knew himself to be in the good graces of such a powerful creature, inexplicable as it was.

 _You worry too much, sugar,_ the Grandmaster had told him the other night, passing deft fingers over the skin of his collarbone - his eyelashes fluttering in that queer, vamp way of his that always made a smile unfold in Loki's face.  _You know things that the earthlings don't. They might not like it, but they have to, uh, keep you around, you know? For the time been. No need to sleep with your eyes open._

Loki knew there was some truth to his words, but still, he couldn't bring himself to let go of his suspicions. He was all too familiar with the burning sting of betrayal, and even though he was usually the one at the other end of the blade, he was cautious enough to be wary of a role reversal. The Avengers more than anyone had reasons enough to claim for his wretched little head, and he was aware that if it hadn't been for Bruce's timely intervention, and the passionate support of the few remaining Asgardians, their wishes would have been meet more sooner than later. Loki couldn't say he was too fond of them either. They were a reminder of everything he had struggled to forget in the past six years; first in the disquiet, almost maddening silence of his cell in the palace dungeons, and later in his all too short, hedonistic life as Asgard's Regent King.

His memories of the Battle of New York were confusing at best, and even though he couldn't say he felt remorseful for his actions, Loki would be lying if he said that he wasn’t appalled by the levels of brutality he had reached in his search for a suitable performance. Before the invasion, he had never been a murderer outside of the battlefield, and it disturbed him how easy it had been for him to slid into the part; how natural it had been for him to bring down the knife in the hearts of the innocent, to rage and spill blood and smile in the face of destruction. Guilt had never been too much of a problem for him, talented as he was in finding excuses for the most outrageous crimes; however, the fear Loki held for his inherit monstruosity was one that he still needed to come to terms with. Bloodlust was not a trait limited to the Jotnar, but it certainly was a remarkable one of their species, and he had to wonder whether his was merely a hereditary gift or something particularly linked to his person. He'd never seen killing as a diversion before falling into the Void, and thrilling as it had been under the sweet, electric reach of the Mind Gem, it wasn't long before his return to Asgard that the fun of it seemed to wear off - leaving room only to confusion and bewilderment. He knew now that the weapon had been designed to make a berserker out of its wielder, channeling the warrior's darkest facets into a furious craving for violence. The feelings had been his to begin with, however, reshaped and unnaturally enhanced, but undoubtedly his. He found himself wondering how long it would take for them to manifest again. It was, surely, only a matter of time.

 

* * *

 

 

Despite his dislike of confined spaces, Loki found that his avoidance of the rest of the residents of the bunker was a much more troubling matter, and often forced himself to spend hours behind closed doors, only venturing outside late at night, when he knew there would be no one about to disrupt his solitude. He hadn't seen the Valkyrie nor the Hulk ever since the coronation, and even then he had been careful to avoid them, unsure what the reactions of such wild, fickle creatures would be when facing his person. If he had been in a gaming mood, he would have been tempted to make a flamboyant comment about the Revengers and how easily they had parted ways after the sudden loss of their leader; unfortunately, even his sense of humor had been affected by the transpired events.

The truth was that both the smallness of the bunker and the many, threatening presences that resided in it made Loki feel uneasy; uncomfortably exposed. He didn't know what to do with himself, and constantly doubted whether to go outside and face his enemies or remain hidden. He felt unsafe in the gatherings of the Avengers, but found it odd and unpleasant to seek out the company of his fellow Asgardians. He didn't know where he fit in this strange underground community; what was expected of him as the new leader of his people or what he ought to expect from them in return. In the years prior to his fall to the Void, when he was a quiet, uncertain man forever trailing behind the footsteps his older brother had left for him to follow, making decisions wasn't a task Loki had needed to burden himself with. He limited himself to follow Thor's lead, no matter how childish or unwise he found the reasoning behind his actions, and afterwards if things went wrong he could always find comfort in the knowledge that he haven't really had a say on the matter. Now, he didn't have that reassurance. Perhaps that's the reason why when Captain Steve Rogers came to him with an unexpected request, Loki found himself at such a loss.

"We need a favor from you." He said, hands behind his back and chin tilted forwards, his muscles stretched in a military stance that contrasted sharply with his now grown beard and his long blonde hair. "Can we talk for a sec?"

"I... suppose we can." Loki answered sternly, not quite able to keep the suspicion out of his voice. Rogers pointed at the adjoining hallway with his head, as if motioning for him to follow, and wasted no time to walk ahead and fall into a steady stroll. Loki stared at him for a few seconds, taken aback, before quickly shaking himself and trailing behind the Captain. He was tense with anticipation, having to face one of the Avengers for the first time in what felt like weeks, and he had to wonder whether Rogers was versed enough in the art of reading people to notice that he was trying to hide his unease. 

"We, my team and I, that is - we've been discussing, and we were wondering if you'll be willing to do something for us." Rogers didn't make eye contact as he said this, staring straight ahead as they made their way through the hallway. Loki noticed the distinction he made of his people, and tried to guess which inhabitants of the bunker he considered his allies and which he didn't. Last time he was on Earth, there had not been this type of division among the ranks of the Avengers, even though the majority of his plan had relied on the purposed creation of it. He found it somehow troubling, to think that Midgardians would succeed so easily where he had failed in the past. "I understand that there might be some... tension between us, after everything. But we are working for a common goal here, and I believe it would be better for us to put our differences aside, for the moment."

"Oh, there's no need for so much formality." Loki said, trying to hide the amusement in his voice and most likely failing. Rogers turned to look at him sharply, and he found himself smiling back at the Avenger. It was not an unkind smile; if anything, there was something placating about the gesture. "I know what is at stake, Captain. You need not try to convince me. If there is something I can do to help, I am only happy to oblige." He said, bowing his head slightly as if to show his good will. Rogers stared at him for a few moments, as though trying to figure out whether he was been honest with him or not. He nodded after a while, seemingly satisfied, and turned his gaze away.

"We have a sorceress among our ranks. You know that, don't you? Her name's Wanda." He said, and Loki nodded silently. He had crossed paths with the girl once or twice while walking through the hallways of the bunker. The extent of her power had been obvious to him upon a first glance, but besides that he knew little to nothing about her. She hadn’t been one of the subjects that his hawkling had debriefed him about, during his first visit to Earth. "She's a good kid. Has a lot of potential. But she doesn't know how to control her powers, and we fear that..." Rogers hesitated for a second. Loki frowned at this, tilting his head slightly to the side; he didn't think he had ever seen Captain America doubt before.

"You fear that if you send her out to fight someone would get hurt." He finished for him; as nonchalantly as he could, so he wouldn't take offense. Rogers came to a stop and then turned to look at him, seeming very serious all of a sudden. Loki raised a questioning eyebrow at him, feeling the corners of his lips twitching upwards and fighting not to let it show. It wasn't often that old enemies came to him asking for his service; it was a most amusing feeling. "Wanda's not a lost cause." The Captain said, eyes hard and jawline clenched in a way that spoke of personal investment; whoever the girl was, she obviously meant a great deal to him. "She can still learn to control herself, she just needs..." He trailed off, and stopped a moment to lick his dry lips. "She just needs someone to teach her."

"Why, Captain, you flatter me." Loki said, now allowing the smile to blossom on his face. He ought to be less smug about it, he knew, but his victories were so few as of late - he could not bring himself to stay quiet about this one. "I am not the only sorcerer in the vicinity, though. Surely, you could ask someone else? Strange, maybe?" Privately, he congratulated himself for managing not to wince as the memory of his last encounter with the Sorcerer Supreme threatened to resurface. The Avengers were not the only creatures worth worrying about in the bunker.

"Yeah, well, Strange..." The Captain made a most curious face at hearing this; his eyebrow rising in an expression that wasn't quite contemptuous. "He already chose sides. You haven't, as far as I can see."

 _How interesting,_  Loki thought, intrigued. This meant that the breach between the Avengers was far graver than he had first assumed. Even faced by the Mad Titan's looming threat, they were still reluctant to trust each other. It must have been quite an incident the one that tore them apart, if they were willing to favor Loki himself over the allegiances of their former teammates. Briefly, he wondered if his desire to avoid Bruce was stronger than his need to inform himself of the current state of affairs between Midgard's Heroes; he couldn't think of anyone else who would be willing to provide him such information. He couldn't say that the idea of facing the awkward, nervous little doctor again appealed him greatly; especially when there was always the risk of catching him in a poor mood and turning his berserker loose. He was currently been offered, however, a much more simple and pleasant alternative, and all Loki had to do was nod with his head and say yes, allowing things to follow their natural course. Far too easy, honestly, as far as deceptions went. "Your request has peaked my interest, Captain." He said to Rogers, smiling, perhaps, all too widely. If the man noticed, however, he didn't let it show. "Bring her whenever you want. If she does have the potential, it would be easy to work with her."

 

* * *

 

 

"Mmmn, I gotta say, I never took you for the teaching type." The Grandmaster said, carefully treading his fingers through Loki's unruly, dark curls. There was a wide, satisfied smile tugging at his lips, and the thin blue line that usually crossed his chin had been smeared all over his mouth and neck; making them glitter in the dark of the room. He needed to find an eyeliner that wasn’t brushed away so easily, he thought, but under the current circumstances that was, perhaps, too much to ask for. "I fear what will become of the poor thing, really - if she makes you like, lose your temper and all that." Pushing a few errant strands out his forehead, the Grandmaster placed his hand on the soft skin bellow Loki's jawline and began to draw concentric circles. His lover welcomed the petting without further contemplation, allowing the side of his face to press against a bare, warm thigh. The movement brought light to his features, and suddenly the now faint cuts that had been left by the Mad Titan's cursed blades were all the more visible. The Grandmaster's lips pursed slightly as he traced the small, pink lines across Loki's cheek and eyebrows. He did wish he could have had the chance to stab through one of Thanos' big ugly eyes for his audacity.

"It's hardly about teaching." Loki answered, snorting. "Midgard's Heroes have their fair share of secrets and I wouldn't mind to trade a few hours of my time in order to unveil them. If I am to pry the information out of one of the Avengers, I'd rather try my luck with the one that has fewer reasons to distrust me." 

"That sounds like, eh, real serious business. Do I ought to be... concerned about this?" The Grandmaster didn't know whether he should feel troubled or relieved by the fact that Loki would not ask for his help, when it came to solving these little matters. Deception is a riskful endeavor even for talented liars, and a much more long and difficult process than the quick, barely noticeable insight that telepathy could allow. Perhaps, he felt that receiving aid from a third part in his games of lie and deceit somehow killed the fun of it. He was strange like that sometimes; eager to prove that he could do things on his own, no matter how difficult they could get. Privately, the Grandmaster allowed himself to think that it was an endearing behavior, however juvenile.

"There's no need. Their witch is powerful, but she's afraid of herself and that keeps her back. Even if I did manage to get on her bad side, I doubt she'd be brave enough to do something about it." Loki said, sounding unconcerned, but the Grandmaster knew better than to trust his facades of nonchalance. The bunker was nowhere near large enough to hide the pretty human sorceress from his sight, and what little he'd seen was enough to convince him that she could turn into something of a nuisance if not properly contained. Even if he hadn't been aware, he wouldn't have considered her descontrol a reason of relief; in his experience, there was nothing more dangerous than a young, untrained magician gifted with great power.  

"Well, as long nothing goes up in flames... not that I'd complain. Things  _are_  getting kind of, uh, tedious around here." The Grandmaster said, looking down at the blue, freshly painted nails of his left hand. Maybe it was time to try another color; too much of the same and he'll end up growing bored. "But, now, if we were still in Sakaar..." He trailed off, keeping his voice mild even as an annoyed frown appeared on his face. Loki's lips turned down unhappily at the corners, but his eyes, looking up at the Grandmaster with unwavering attention, remained calm. It was uncomfortable, how much the little trickster struggled to hide from him even when he wasn't trying to touch his mind. For all his fondness for riddles and games, the Grandmaster saw no attractive in secrecy just for the sake of it. The last time Loki had decided that transparency was an unwise course of action, things had ended with his fair-haired boy lying down on the floor of the docks, barely responsive and with hot, white spume coming out of his mouth, while 142 and two rogue gladiators sailed away with three of his fastest ships. For one so long lived as him, it was difficult to find a situation that would affect him so much as to leave him shaking with rage. This, and Loki's unexpected disappearance only a few hours later managed to do that surprisingly easily. 

"Yes, well... Unfortunately, we aren’t." Loki said at length, looking away. His mouth made the strangest little thing; the corners of his lips going downwards and his nose wrinkling slightly, as though trying and failing to hide his discontent. The Grandmaster felt amusement rising up his chest and struggled not to let it show. It was perplexing, sometimes; how easily Loki could take offense from the smallest gestures. Smiling slightly, he buried his long, wrinkly fingers in the soft hair behind his lover’s ear, relishing in its silky density, now that the stickiness of spray and other cosmetics couldn’t get on his way. It was just his luck, to be so fond of the same long, untamed curls that Loki himself found so distasteful. "What are you thinking, God of Mischief?" He asked, rising a finger to press it gently against the tip of his lover's nose. Loki smiled up at him reluctantly, his deep, green eyes lighting up with playfulness once again.

"Don't you know me, Grandmaster?" He asked, arching a long, well puckered eyebrow at him. He rose from the bed slowly, propping himself up by grabbing the Grandmaster by the shoulders. No meeting resistance, and all too comfortable with taking the initiative for a change, he shifted to sit on the empty place the Grandmaster’s crossed legs left on the mattress. He hummed pleasantly as he felt the way Loki's inner thighs pressed against his waist, straddling him but not pressing hard enough as to encourage closer contact. "What I always do. Thinking one step ahead."

"Are you? Mmmn, I really can't say why, but... I don't think that's it." He passed his hands over the pale skin of Loki's thighs, lingering on the tender, round shaped flesh and drawing circles around it with his thumbs. The Grandmaster felt more than saw the body above him relax, Loki's shoulders visibly dropping and his long, white arms coming to rest around the back of his neck. Feeling particularly bold, he let his hands travel lower and lower to squeeze two full, nicely shaped buttocks. When no complain was made he let himself stop, enjoying the warm, erotic feeling that it produced him to be able to touch Loki like this, so intimately, without it necessarily having to lead to intercourse. 

"In what else could I be thinking?" Loki asked, speaking dangerously close to his right ear. He pressed the tip of his tongue against his earlobe, allowing warm breath to ghost over the sensitive skin there. He caught it between his teeth and sensuously sucked at it, making a wave of heat surge in the Grandmaster's lower stomach. He knew that Loki liked to toy with him, just as much as he liked to toy with Loki; the titillating youth of one and the tempered experience of the other adding fuel to their nightly activities. This burning, bizarre, almost childish infatuation he had for the young man before him seemed to have no end, steadily growing with each passing day. Distantly, he thought to himself that he needed to watch his steps more closely, around this one, if he didn’t want to get himself in trouble.

Perhaps, it was already too late for that.

"You know, I've been wondering... Did you know Sparkles was going to try and get away? Or was your visit to the cells just a, eh, happy coincidence?" He asked, feeling strangely satisfied with the way Loki's body abruptly tensed. It wouldn't do to let him get too comfortable, the Grandmaster thought cynically; he ought to remind his little lover in time to time that despite his inclination for self-indulgence, he was not to be taken lightly when it came to games of the mind. Loki's attempts at trickery amused him enough, and sometimes he could go as far as to pretend to fall for them to easy his mind; but the truth was that more often than not he found Loki's love for deceitfulness to be more endearing than dangerous.

Paying no mind to his lover’s faltering, the Grandmaster brushed aside one of Loki's long, silky curls and absently kissed the back of his neck, bringing his lips to the soft skin there time and time again, without really backing away from it. After a few seconds, the trickster seemed to find his voice once again, and cleared his throat. "I was certain he would try." He said, an edge of bitterness to his voice. "I wasn't so sure about his success, though. You  _did_  have a rather impressive security." He added, and despite the carefree way such words were delivered, the Grandmaster could tell that Loki meant for them to be more than just flippant commentary. Even though he had never been graced with his version of the story, the Grandmaster was, in a way, aware of the fact that Loki had not been in full control of the situation that lead to the downfall of his million years old rule in Sakaar. If he had been, he would have probably taken more with him than just a cargo ship full of would-be-mercenaries. He certainly wouldn't have been left behind by his fellow conspirators in the way he was. Still, there was a part of him that couldn't help but feel somehow stung.

Apparently bothered by his line of questioning, Loki resolved to abandon his place at the Grandmaster's lap and stood up from the bed; heading towards the stash of liquor that they had managed to hide away from the other inhabitants of the bunker. The Grandmaster saw him walk away with a frown on his face, struggling not to feel disappointed. Loki was proud and beautiful even without a single piece of cloth on him; his back straight and his shoulders pushed back, hips slightly swaying as he slowly made his way across the bedroom. He stared with unmasked appreciation, delighted with the way the shadows of the room fell over his lover's naked form. "He was the one who put the disc in you, wasn't he?" He asked suddenly, remembering the way Loki’s body had looked sprawled on the floor of the docks, trembling and spitting and struggling to breathe; eyes glassed over after so long a time exposed to the spasmodic effects of electricity. "Thunder Lord, Sparkles, whatever his name is."

Loki stayed silent for a moment. He let his head fall backwards and took a deep breath, seemingly preparing himself for whatever answer he was going to give. From that angle, the Grandmaster could not make out his expression. "Yes, he was." He said, taking a glass from the counter and filling it with a soft, brightly colored beverage. "It was unexpected, if I'm honest. I didn't thought him capable of lying, let alone deceit before that. Life is indeed full of unpleasant surprises." He turned around and brought the edge of the glass to his lips - his head tilted to the side, his eyebrows slightly arched, seeming utterly unaffected by the sense of vulnerability that usually comes with the state of nakedness. His eyes were serious, though, lacking that mischievous glow that the Grandmaster was used to see in them when they were alone, and an unhappy frown graced the skin of his forehead. He wondered what had made Loki more angry; to have been abandoned to his fate by his own kin, or to have been outsmarted by the man he considered to be his greatest rival. He was, for some reason, more inclined to believe the second. 

"Yeah, well, I did get the impression that things weren't exactly peachy between you guys." He said, smiling as he recalled the alarmed, hilariously disgruntled expression that had appeared in Loki's face upon seen his brother for the first time in Sakaar. The big, muscly gladiator who screamed like a little girl hadn't seem like so much of a problem back then; he was proud and insolent, certainly, but that was nothing that an obedience disk couldn't solve. Perhaps, many things wouldn't have end up in the way they did, if he had taken the Thunder Lord more seriously. "Hey, brother stuff, I get it. You eh, gotta throw around a few punches, to earn some respect, yeah?  _That_  thought... that was another thing entirely." The Grandmaster smiled as he said this; an amused, cheerful gesture that almost manage to hide his animosity towards the man in question. He could be civil for the sake of appearances, and he had been around long enough to know that blatant hostility was at the very least unhelpful when it came to bring down your enemies. He wouldn't lie though; if Loki gave his permission, there was little to nothing that the Grandmaster wouldn't do to turn that vain, arrogant godling into space dust.

"Oh, if you only knew." Loki answered, a small, guarded smile unfolding on his face. He gulped down his drink then, and turned towards the counter again to prepare another one. By the time he came back to the bed, he was holding two glasses full of ice and mint, along with a sparkling blue water that smelled only faintly of alcohol. The Grandmaster took it without much contemplation, lightly patting his thigh to urge Loki back to his previous seat. His lover narrowed his eyes at him, seeming torn between annoyance and amusement, but when the only thing he got in return was a cocky, charming smile from the Grandmaster, he huffed out a laugh and settled himself across his lap again, surrounding the back of his neck with one arm for support. He kissed the Grandmaster's cheek lightly, and then went for the corner of his mouth - just a tender, barely there pressure, that made his entire body light up with anticipation. He grabbed the back of Loki's neck and pulled him closer, kissing him slowly and deeply - sucking on the soft skin of his tongue until he heard him moan. Loki seemed to melt into the kiss, pressing tightly against him; low, encouraging sounds surging from the back of his throat. The Grandmaster barely noticed when his hands ventured lower once again, searching and gripping at the tender flesh of his buttocks.

"Your make up is running again." Loki said when they pulled apart; passing a long finger over the glittery, blue stained skin of his chin. The Grandmaster smiled, taking a short sip from his beverage and placing it over the nightstand. "Yeah, it is, isn't?" He said, licking his lips to taste the soft, oddly flavored substance. He grabbed Loki's hips and pulled him closer towards him, lowering himself to lay over the mattress. He was followed without complain, strong, white thighs coming down to straddle his own. Loki placed his hands at both sides of his head, trying to keep some balance, and smiled seductively down at him, his eyelashes fluttering slightly. The Grandmaster hummed appreciatively, drinking in the attractive, bright color of his lover's eyes. "Tell me, are you ever gonna let me paint that pretty face of yours? Gold and green would look  _fantastic_ onyou, I think." He inquired, knowing the answer already but feeling the need to ask anyway.

"Over my dead body." Loki answered mildly - a sweet, impish smile gracing his lips.


End file.
